Despite what he said, Arthur was starting to enjoy having Francis around. The android had only been living with Arthur for five days, but he was settling in nicely, and the cooking was a plus. They were sat on the sofa, watching TV while Arthur explained the rules of 'Deal or No Deal' when there was a knock at the door. There was an excited gleam in Francis's eyes.
"Can I answer the door?" He pleaded. Arthur rolled his eyes.
"On you go then."
Before he had the words out, Francis had leapt up, and dashed to the door, throwing it open.
"Bonjour," he greeted the guests. He smiled at Arthur.
"It's for you," he announced.
"Of course it's for me, you stupid frog," Arthur grumbled, wondering why he let Francis answer the door, since he would just have to get up anyway. He reached the door and glowered at the two men standing there. "What do you two want?" He growled.
"No need to be a dick," Gilbert spat back, gaining him a nudge from Antonio.
"Hi, Arthur," the Spanish man chirped. There was no response. "Gilbert came here to apologise for his atrocious behaviour the other day. There was an argument at home, and he was in a pretty bad mood, but that was no excuse for what he said. Isn't that right, Gilbert?" Gilbert stared at his feet, pouting, with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his red hoodie.
"Yeah, I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Y'know, I'm not busy tonight, would you and your, er, friend like to come out tonight with Antonio and I?" He finally looked up at Arthur, and Francis looked deeply into the crimson eyes.
"Thank you, Gilbert, but we graciously refu-"
"We'd love to!" Francis interrupted Arthur gleefully. Gilbert flashed a lopsided grin while Arthur glared at Francis.
"Awesome," the albino declared. "We'll meet you at the bar at 8." And with that, he and Antonio left, and Arthur shut the door with a groan.
"You're a real git, you know," he grumbled. Francis cocked his head to the side.
"Is that a good thing?"
"I give up."
Arthur and Francis met Gilbert and Antonio on the way to the bar, so they decided to walk there together. When they reached it, Francis looked at the sign above the door.
"What does that say, Arthur?" he asked. Arthur took a quick glance at the sign.
"Well, it's not in English, so I don't know, and it clearly isn't in French, Spanish or German, so that means none of us know."
"Actually, I speak Italian too," Antonio piped up.
"Yeah, and I know some Hungarian," Gilbert added.
"So is the sign in Italian or Hungarian?" Arthur asked them. They both shook their heads, prompting Arthur to roll his eyes, and lead the way into the pub.
Tom stood behind the bar, enjoying the silence. The small pub was often overlooked by the locals who opted for the flashy nightclub in the town centre. The only regulars were some of the older men in the area, and the quiet, blonde man with bushy eyebrows who would occasionally stop by for a pint, which never went too well. And then, there were those two. From the moment that the German and Spaniard set foot in the bar, Tom knew they were trouble. On his own, the Spaniard was pleasant enough, but when paired with the obnoxious German and a few drinks, the two were a force to be reckoned with. Tom shuddered at the thought of the carnage that had happened just the other week. And still, the pub landlord wouldn't ban them, because they took in more money from those two in one night than from any other customer over a 6 month period.
The door was pushed open, and the man with the large eyebrows stepped in with his new French friend. Tom nodded to them as a greeting, but then he caught sight of their companions, and his hopes of a quiet night were shattered. The Spaniard, Frenchman and the man with the eyebrows sat at a table near the back, while the German went up to the bar wearing a sharp grin.
"Hey, here's a joke for ya!" He announced to Tom. "An awesome Prussian, a Spaniard, a Frenchman and an Englishman walk into a bar! The Prussian goes to the bartender and says, 'Hey, get me a beer, a bottle of red, a pint of lager and a huge fucking jug of your finest sangria, and put it on a tab, 'cause were making a night of it!'" Tom's face paled at the thought of a whole night of the 'Prussian' and his friend, and just prayed that the other two weren't influenced by those two. He put the drinks on a tray and pushed it to Gilbert, who took it to their table.
Francis wasn't sure if his systems could process the vast quantities of alcohol, but they seemed to be managing, since after a several bottles of wine, which he was growing very fond of by now, he still felt completely fine, whereas Arthur was slumped over the table, out cold, Antonio had quietened down quite a bit, and anything he did say was in broken English, and Gilbert was slurring out tales of how amazingly awesome he was. Francis sat and listened; he quite liked Gilbert and Antonio.
The conversation quickly turned to Francis. "Come on," Gilbert urged. "What's the truth about you and Arthur?" Francis tilted his head to the side, much in the manner of a dog who is being asked a question.
"What do you mean?" Gilbert opened his mouth to ask a crude question, but was quickly interrupted by Antonio.
"Well, Arthur tends to keep quiet about things that we like to know about. We didn't know about his last amante for about six weeks!"
"Oh, Arthur isn't my lover," Francis explained. Antonio was sure he caught a glint of sadness in Francis' eye.
"Would you like him to be?" He asked him. Francis considered this for a moment. Arthur didn't like Francis the way Francis liked Arthur, but Francis was built to change to Arthur's liking. Surely this could work out?
"Yes," Francis smiled, looking fondly at the sleeping Brit. "I want to be his boyfriend." Antonio took Francis' hand with a cheerful smile.
"Well, mi amigo, I am from the country of passion, and you are from the country of love. Arthur will be yours in a month." He guaranteed. Gilbert watched the exchange, and felt a sense of déjà vu.
"Hey, Toni, remember how you got together with your Italian?" Antonio grinned at Gilbert.
"Of course, you helped me. Although how you're a master of love, I'll never know." Gilbert raised his eyebrows once.
"Yeah, although my awesomeness clearly rubbed off on you, since you're the one helping someone out." Gilbert sat quietly for a moment while a rare, thoughtful look flashed across his face. It quickly disappeared, and was replaced with a wild grin.
"We should start a group or something!" He yelled, pounding his fist on the table, causing Arthur to grumble in his deep sleep.
"Hmm? What do you mean, amigo?" Antonio asked.
"Well, I'm awesome in every way, you're awesome, Toni, and I'm sure Francis is pretty awesome too! He's just shy or something. " Francis nodded, going along with Gilberts assumptions, instead of saying he didn't have a fully developed personality. "Right! We should make a club, dedicated to how awesome we all are!" Antonio smiled.
"Sure, but what should we call it?" Gilbert's thoughtful face came back, momentarily.
"I've got it!" he cried. The other two leaned in closer. "Right, there's three of us, right? And we're 'inappropriate', right?" He said, doing a poor impression of what Francis assumed was Arthur's voice.
"I don't know if Francis is as bad as us two, Gil," Antonio voiced, gaining a patronising look from Gilbert.
"He's French." Antonio considered this, and nodded in agreement.
"So, what's the name?" Gilbert smirked, and leaned back in his seat, with his arms folded.
"We, my friends, are the Bad Touch Trio." He picked up his mug of beer and held it out. "Are you with me?" Antonio and Francis followed suit, and clanged their glasses together, before downing what was left of their respective drinks.
Tom cringed from behind the bar.
'Oh god,' he thought. 'There are three of them now.'
He knocked on the door that lead to the landlords office, and opened it. The blonde, lavender eyed man behind the desk looked at him with a curious smile.
"I'm sorry," Tom sighed. "But I'm going to have to quit, Mr Väinämöinen"
Francis had helped Arthur home again, and took him upstairs. He lay him on his bed, before turning to leave, and go to bed himself.
"Francis," Arthur croaked. Francis looked over his shoulder, to see the drunken man beckoning him clumsily. He sat on the edge of Arthur's bed. Arthur's jade eyes gazed into Francis cerulean light receptors. "I like you, Francis. I really like you," he mumbled. Francis' eyes widened. "In a completely platatonically way!" Arthur was slurring his words again. Francis leaned down, and softly pressed his lips to Arthur's forehead.
"I like you too."